Heart it3
by DrowningHeta
Summary: I would give a summary, but that would be spoiling it, no?
1. The Deconstruction of Feliciano

**The Deconstruction of Feliciano -3**

_I'm scared. I'm scared… what's going to happen to me?_

Soft whimpers emitted from a crouched figure. Arms bound and forced into a squat, Feliciano could feel his leg muscles screaming in pain from holding him up for so very long. He longed to collapse under the strain of days of imprisonment; dehydrated and starved –there was no fight left in the young Italian. Every time his legs slipped under him fierce, white-hot pain would rack through his being. Shuddering from intense pain and heart threatening to stop beating all together, he forced himself to stay up. Bones threatening to snap, and wearing their way to his heals from the pressure, helpless tears poured from Feliciano's eyes, wetting his blindfold, and every once in a while, something warm and wet would brush his cheek, accompanied by foul breath, and it chilled Feliciano to the core.

Blind colours rushing under his closed eyelids, Feliciano wobbled weakly, utter exhaustion driving him mad, he fell over sideways.

Fire. He was on fire. That was the only explanation for the burning pain that threatened to tear him apart. His very muscles were alight, slowly being consumed and twitching erratically from complete loss of motor control.

The blackness that consumed his terrified mind, filled it with nightmares of time could bring threatened to win over, proving itself to be the stronger, Feliciano couldn't meet his torturers demands.

Jabbing Feliciano with the electric baton again, the shadowed figure frowned, the young Italian convulsed on the ground as electrical pulses yet once again swamped his body.

Looking like he wouldn't be processing any type of emotion or sensation for a while, the man responsible for Feliciano's deconstruction, decided to change his game plan, and smirked.


	2. Arthur's turn

**Arthur's turn-3**

Pain sliced up Arthur's leg, ripping his pants and digging deep into his soft, milky flesh and stopped only just below his groin. Fighting not to whimper, not to scream out from the icy tendrils that wrapped around his leg and threatened to tear the flesh off –refusing to show his attacker the agony he created, Arthur desperately tried to think of who on earth would do such a thing to him. To anyone. Feeling himself being straddled, bile rose in Arthur's throat, unable to not shrink under the feeling of the body on top of him, lightly gripping his hips with their knees. Whoever it was, they were strong… to have successfully reduced Arthur to such a pitiful mass of terrified scum.

A hand struck against Arthur's cheek, the back of it causing a red mark to appear immediately, and most definitely a future, very attractive blue bruise. Head rocking to the side, Arthur started to hyperventilate. Unable to see what was happening in the pitch black, he could only imagine the worse.

Ripping his pants the rest of the way, the assailant fingered Arthur's penis, chuckling as a pained and terrified squeak emitted from Arthur's lips. Wanting to completely shatter the younger, the man smothered Arthur's lips with his own, despite his personal disgust at the measure, moving his lips against the surprisingly soft ones under him. The man jabbed his fingers into Arthur's eyes with no warning. Arthur's scream was surprisingly loud and shrill, but the attacker didn't worry, it wasn't as though anyone else could hear. Fingers in deeper than he previously thought possible, the figure experimentally wriggled them about, feeling deep satisfaction as pained moans escaped from Arthur, who had now, finally, given up on holding back.

Blood coating Arthur's face, mixed with a few chunks of white eyeball, the unknown man almost wished he had a camera to snap a picture of the destroyed man in front of him. Display it on his mantle piece, maybe.

Hooking one of Arthur's legs over his shoulder, he positioned himself, and rammed his sword up through Arthur's entrance, tearing easily through the delicate flesh, blood poured out. Wet with blood the sword sliced through Arthur's body, right up through his gut and faeces and slimy, dark red gore washed out with the blood as Arthur screamed and screamed and screamed to the holy heavens, to make it stop! To make it stop!


End file.
